


Make the Sun Smile

by Kangalia



Series: Alatos Wingfics [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: AU, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:57:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangalia/pseuds/Kangalia
Summary: Murders of their kind were very common. Another had just occurred on the quaint street with the unassuming green buildings, traditionally Japanese in their structure. The police never seemed to care about the murders. It was ‘normal’ for regular people to hate these abominations, so why should the police go against public opinion?Nana disagreed“Don’t worry, mum. I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll live life to my own tune and do my best. Alato or not, I won’t care. Watch me, mama. I’ll make you proud. I promise.”For the first time since that day, the sun unearthed it’s rays and smiled.





	Make the Sun Smile

Neighbours sighed in disgust, drawing their little coloured curtains as police sirens screamed from outside their quaint homes. They offered no pity to creators of the soul-tearing, bloody silence - the victims of the latest murder - only cold disgust and little evil whispers in their boring little kitchens. It was hard to miss that no-one considered them victims, despite the word’s overwhelming accuracy. People usually called them abominations. Everyone was okay with that, though, as people seemed to think that suited them. Of course, the ‘them’ in question didn’t agree, but they were too terrified to say anything. That was the way of the world now, after all. 

 

Murders of their kind were very common. Another had just occurred on the quaint street with the unassuming green buildings, traditionally Japanese in their structure. The police never seemed to care about the murders. It was ‘normal’ for regular people to hate these abominations, so why should the police go against public opinion? (They seemed to forget that the victims were part of the public as well, but they were dead, so they can’t voice their opinion, right?) No police officer - no-one in their little town, really - mourned for the dead woman, fifty two in age; greying, blonde hair and blank, lifeless honey eyes that no-one bothered to close in a sign of peaceful rest. She was still laying in a growing pool of her own blood, in the middle of the kitchen where she was mercilessly attacked only a few hours earlier. Of course, most of the neighbours saw the attack occur - they even knew who did the deed, for the man, with slick brown hair and crazed, green eyes had been boasting about what he'd done in the town centre for several hours before the police arrested him. Not for the murder, oh no, but for being a clear head case. He was clearly a danger to society. The chief of police - standing in court and giving his statement for the imprisonment of the lunatic - hadn’t said anything else, but everyone knew. They were not included in the society he spoke of, and everyone agreed (their opinion was ignored, once again, although they’d gotten used to it. They’d never been listened to and they didn’t expect for that to start any time soon, although they still held onto the hope that they would be, at some point).

 

The police had returned to the house the day before, cursing at the rotting corpse of the woman, who stank heavily in the confines of the kitchen. They all noticed that her eyes were closed, and that the splattered blood had been cleaned from her face and arms; the still-wet rag positioned around her head in a mockery of a halo. One of the female officers snorted, kicking at the rag and the corpse's head with a steel-toed boot. They all heard the sickening crack, and saw the large dent and how the pool of blood started to grow again, but the whole group ignored it in favour of spilling petrol over every room of the house. They all saw the pink and purple room, which was now completely bare, unlike how it was fully stocked with clothes and personal belongings the day before, but shrugged it off and completed their work by spreading the highly-flammable liquid all over a very nice-looking vegetable patch and flower garden, before dumping the empty cans and making their way back through the house. On the way out, the officers made a show of stamping down hard on the hollow wing bones and feathers of the dead lady, mushing them beneath their boots before laughing and leaving. The female lit a lighter and threw it into the house, before leading her police squad away from the burning remains of the abomination’s house. 

 

No-one noticed the young, twenty year old brunette woman standing close, but far from her burning home, tears in her honey eyes - so similar to the blank eyes of the woman on the floor - and red puffiness taking over her features. She was the same woman who’d carefully, lovingly, wiped the blood from her mother’s face, closing her eyes in respect and then arranging the rag around her head. She was the same woman who’d stroked her hand through the ruffled, crumpled and utterly ruined feathers of her mother’s wings, mimicking the motions she had gone through and learnt so well as a child, that she could do it blindfolded. It was almost like she had been, for she’d been too consumed in her grief and rage that she hadn’t been seeing the pool of blood on the floor grow, nor the sticky substance seep onto her bare legs while her skirt remained untouched. She was the same woman that had packed her belonging into a small suitcase, taking most of her clothes and personal belongings (not forgetting their family heirloom) before leaving the house in a daze, not glancing back to the cold, pale corpse of her mother, who had been laughing in the kitchen and cooking with her only two days before. She’d left in a daze, camping in the alley next to her house while she cried and cried and  _ cried _ and  _ no-one _ came to help her, while she puzzled on  _ why no-one came to help her mother?! _

 

So, there she was, holding a small, black suitcase, worn from the many adventures as a child, in her left hand while her right cradled a handbag, while she stood outside her home as it smoked a crackled and  _ burned _ right in front of her eyes. She could feel her hopes and dreams and happiness going down with that fire. In fact, she was sure that they burned the very moment she came out from the room her mother frantically shoved her into, seeing siad woman dead on the floor with a large wooden pike through her heart.

 

The woman shook her head, turning around a not looking back as the smoke from her home wafted across her vision. She had considered searching for her father, however she shook her head from that thought as soon as it entered. She had never needed him, and she wouldn’t go running to him now. She didn’t need a man who decided seducing an abomination for the fun of it was a good idea. She never did, and never would.

 

The woman wandered away, slinging her handbag over her shoulder and gripping her feather pendant that hung around her neck. It was made from her mother’s feathers, and was her most precious possession. The words her mother spoke to her a few days ago couldn’t help but force their way into her mind.  _ “Nana, darling, never care about what society thinks. I may be different, yes. I may be an abomination in the world’s eyes and an Alato, a gift, in my own, but the second opinion is the only thing I care about - the only thing I care for. It’s the only thing we need in life. Remember this, Nana. Remember to always make  _ **_the sun smile_ ** _.” _

 

Nana smiled as she remembered the fond memory. They were playing chess, and her mother had just started spouted her random and lovely and confusing rants in the middle of a game (her mother was winning - she always did). Nana hadn’t payed much attention to her words at the time, but now she was determined to live by them.

 

“Don’t worry, mum. I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll live life to my own tune and do my best. Alato or not, I won’t care. Watch me, mama. I’ll make you proud. I promise.” 

 

_ “I know you will, honey. I know, and I’ll watch you always…” _

 

For the first time since that day, the sun unearthed it’s rays and  _ smiled _ .

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot for a story I am currently working on (as in, I'm still writing the first chapter, but bare with me :P). I'm really excited for this idea, since I've never seen it done before. Of course, there have been several 'hate on another species that just randomly appeared' fanfics, but none I have seen has combined that with a wingfic and the Katekyo Hitman Reborn fandom.
> 
> Just to clarify, if anyone didn't get what was going on, this takes place when Nana is a young, twenty year old, and her mother, an Alato (explained in the story) was murdered and no-one seemed to care. Nana then leaves and promises to make her dead mother proud. It then ends, and that's where I'm going to say she meets Iemitsu. 
> 
> Did you enjoy it? Yes? No? I await your opinions, my fellow bookworms.  
> Chao!
> 
> ([Un-beta'd], so if anyone sees any spelling/grammar mistakes, let me know. I did check it, but I may have missed something due to writing this very late at night)


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